


call me hopeless, but not romantic

by mcGayly (alex_marie1324)



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Connor is a prostitute, Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, ECT electric chair we shock who we can’t saaaave, Electroconvulsive Therapy, Hangover, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mormonism, Non-Consensual Electroconvulsive Therapy, Prostitution, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Slow Burn, kevin ....... just.. wants to Help, not super explicit, really vague actually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-05-26 13:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15002222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_marie1324/pseuds/mcGayly
Summary: Connor McKinley was on the streets. After being raised in a rich, white, suburban home, it was culture shock to say the least... it wasn’t until a man approached him asking him, “How much for a night?” that things really started to click into place.





	1. Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

> sweats
> 
> hi I swear I’ll get back on my bmc fics soon but in the mean time have some garbage bc I literally Just saw bom on broadway last night (seeing Hamilton tomorrow and spongebob & Chicago on Saturday i’m Lit)
> 
> the title is the title of a mayday parade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stranger Danger

Connor McKinley was on the streets. After being raised in a rich, white, suburban home, it was culture shock to say the least. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he came out. For his strictly Mormon family to suddenly ditch their firm beliefs?

They didn’t. Instead they ditched their son. Their only son.

So that landed Connor on the streets, living with nothing but a backpack of a few belongings. He had no idea where to even go, who to talk to, but he knew he needed a job.

Problem was, the usual jobs wouldn’t take a nineteen year old off the streets. He hadn’t had a proper shower since being kicked out almost a month ago. He’d travelled closer to the city, doing some panhandling on the streets, but it wasn’t until a man approached him asking him, “How much for a night?” that things really started to click into place.

So he worked the street corner with a handful of other guys and a few girls, too. A wide selection for customers.

But one night was different. A man approached the lot of them- passing a cigarette around as they made eyes at anyone who passed- in extremely formal clothing. That wasn’t entirely different, plenty of business men took on side-pieces.

“What can I do for you, hon?” Connor asked in a honey-sweet voice. He hated talking that way, but it usually brought in the customers.

“I’d like to share with you this book, a story about Jesus and a prophet right here from American soil-”

Connor snorted, taking a cigarette. “You’re a Mormon, huh?” He shook his head as he took a drag, passing it away as he breathed out the smoke through his nose like a dragon.

“Y-Yes?” The guy was obviously a bit shaken. “If you’d just take this free c-”

“I used to be a Mormon, ya know,” Connor cut the man off. Normally he’d just say something like ‘not interested’ or otherwise dismissal. But right now something bitter is building in his chest and he wanted to take it out on this Mormon man who dared to try and convert a group of prostitutes.

“And you can be again! Heavenly Father is forgiving and if you repent and-”

“‘Heavenly Father,’” Connor started with air quotes and a mocking tone, “is the one who put me _here_ to begin with. Your stupid book-” the cigarette made it back to him just in time- “is what cursed me with this life,” he said as he firmly pressed the burning end of the cigarette into the book, not starting a fire but singeing the cover. The man gasped, pulling back in a hurry. “We’re all goin’ to hell here, sweetheart,” he spat. “I’m not worth saving.”

Something about that put a new determination in the man’s eyes. Connor wasn’t sure what he’d said exactly that caused that, but he wished he hadn’t said it.

“Everyone’s worth saving,” he said in a passionate tone. Something about him was almost persuasive. Almost.

“Uh-huh,” Connor dropped the now dead cigarette and crushed it harshly with his shoe. “Listen, darlin’, unless you want a night, scram.”

The others were snickering a little, mumbling to each other about the ridiculous Mormon come to save them.

“How much?” The man asked. Connor was really only half surprised. They always give in eventually.

Connor did his usual process, looking the man up and down as if he was sizing him up. “For you? A hundred,” he said, as if it wasn’t the same price for everyone. It was pretty effective to pretend the customer was special.

The man fumbled around with his singed book and reached into his pockets. He pulled out a hundred dollar bill, handing it to Connor. Connor inspected it carefully- most guys paid in twenties or would go to the ATM with Connor. But it looked normal and Connor nodded, pocketing it.

“You got a hotel you like, sugar?” Connor asked, thoroughly eye-fucking the man, who looked a tiny bit nervous now.

“Follow me,” he said, taking Connor’s hand. Not totally unusual, so Connor went with it. He led him into the less… well, shady part of town, and hailed a taxi. Connor got comfortable as the man gave an address. He frowned a little as he tried to think about where that was.

“S’that your apartment?” He asked the man, who just nodded. “Not a hotel guy?” He raised an eyebrow. It was especially odd that a Mormon guy would take him to his actual place, instead of hiding the affair in a hotel room.

“You’ll see,” he said. “Oh, by the way,” he stuck his hand out. “Kevin Price,” he said boldly. Connor narrowed his eyes. It sounded like a fake name, but that wasn’t unusual.

“Kayden,” Connor lied easily. Every man he met got a different C- or K- name, but never his own.

“Nice to meet you, Kayden,” Kevin smiled a little, sitting back as the cab drove to his apartment complex. When they got there, he led Connor up to the third floor and down the hall to his room, unlocking it and leading him in.

“Bedroom?” Connor asked, trying to put a flirty smile.

“Sure,” Kevin replied, oddly. Connor frowned as he followed Kevin, feeling strangely like this man didn’t even actually want the night he’d paid for. “Alright,” Kevin started, walking over to his closet. It wasn’t _totally_ strange, some guys would pay extra for Connor to wear something for them before, during, or after sex. “Here’s some clean clothes,” he said instead, laying them on the bed. “There’s a bathroom with a shower through that door if you’d like,” he pointed, “I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.”

“ _What?_ ” Connor practically screeched, confused beyond belief. What the hell was this man doing? But before he could ask again, Kevin was simply leaving the room.

He stormed out of the room, hands on his hips. “What the hell is this?” He asked, crossing his arms and gritting his teeth. “Some sort of fucked up kidnapping?”

“You’re free to leave, if you’d like,” Kevin said. “I’d rather you stay, I have food and some extra clothes.”

Connor frowned. “I don’t need saving,” he snapped, turning on his heel and heading back into the room, slamming the door.

Kevin didn’t seem interested in bothering him, luckily. He begrudgingly picked up the clothes Kevin had laid out, looking over at the door that he said led to a bathroom. It was as good a chance as any to at least get cleaned up.


	2. Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confession & Concession

Connor re-emerged from Kevin’s room freshly washed and dressed and still pissed. “So I’m allowed to leave?” He asked, frowning harshly though he noticed Kevin wasn’t on the couch, but in the little kitchenette.

“Wouldn’t you like to stay for dinner first?” Kevin asked sweetly, smiling over his shoulder at Connor. “I’ve been told I make a mean casserole.”

Connor narrowed his eyes, biting his lips. He still had the hundred in his pocket, he could leave now with at least that much and some clean clothes. But _food_ was a whole different kind of currency.

So, begrudgingly, Connor nodded and sat down at the table as Kevin brought a casserole dish over and set it on a hot pad in the center of the table. He brought over plates, forks, and knives, setting the table. It reminded Connor of his mother, who would always meticulously set the table before every single meal. He always thought it was nice, the neat structured style of living.

Now it made him feel a bit sick.

But he kept it down and ate the casserole which was, admittedly, really good. He didn’t say so, though, from the looks of Kevin’s very tidy Mormon apartment, he was prideful enough. He didn’t need to inflate it further.

“So, Kayden,” Kevin started, looking up at him. “You said you used to be Mormon?”

Connor snorted. “Most people start their small talk off with ‘how are you? how about that weather, huh?’ not ‘tell me your tragic backstory,’” he huffed, stabbing his fork into the casserole as he ate.

“You can always come back to the Lord,” Kevin smiled warmly, not seeming to mind Connor’s slightly scathing remarks.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Kevin looked a little unsettled. “Why not? Things would be much better for you if you prayed to Heavenly Father for prosperity.”

Connor looked away, frowning. “I can’t,” he whispered, turning back to his food after a moment.

“Why?” Kevin continued to prod, sticking his toes in water far too deep for him.

“Because,” Connor started, sounding like a teenager. “I just- I’m not- I can’t.”

“You’re safe here,” Kevin said softly, ever too eager to find out what Connor’s problem was just so he could fix it and somehow bring him back to the faith.

“I’m gay,” Connor finally spat. “I’m gay, and my parents don’t want me, and God doesn’t want me, and I have no idea why the _fuck_ you’ve decided to bring me in like some wounded bird. You know what? My wing’s all better, thanks,” he sat up with a start, pushing his chair back with a harsh screech. He started to walk to the door before a soft hand touched his wrist.

“Stay,” Kevin said calmly, not shaken at all by Connor’s outburst. “This is something that can be worked on, you know-”

“I don’t _want_ to work on this!” Connor shouted. “I tried! I tried to!” There were tears welling in his eyes. “I wanted nothing more than to just- just flip a switch and bang! suddenly straight! But I _can’t_ -”

“Please,” Kevin somehow stayed calm. Damn Mormons. Connor sighed.

“Fine. Whatever, I don’t know why you want me to stay,” he replied, violently ripping his wrist from Kevin’s grip. “Take your damn bed. I’m fine on the couch,” he said, stomping off to the couch. Kevin didn’t follow him.

* * *

In the morning, Connor awoke to the smell of bacon. Jesus, this Kevin guy was a real house husband. Some pristine Mormon girl would be damn lucky to have this.

“Good morning, Kayden,” Kevin smiled over at him gently. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the table. Connor nodded and sat, not sure what else to do. “Breakfast is almost ready,” Kevin hummed. “Did you sleep okay? I know the couch is not the most comfortable place to sleep, but-”

“It was fine,” Connor said quickly. Kevin just nodded, returning to the food.

“So, would you rather I ask about the weather or…?” Kevin started, grinning a little. Connor wanted to smack that grin off his face. Or kiss it. He wasn’t sure, but anything to make it go away.

“I’d rather you shut up,” Connor huffed, looking away.

“Hm, too bad,” Kevin walked over with two neatly set plates of eggs and bacon, setting one in front of Connor before sitting down across from him. “You know, you’re right.”

“What?” Connor looked up in confusion.

“You can’t just turn something like that off. It’s a lot more work than that,” Kevin explained, making Connor roll his eyes. “I’m serious,” and his tone made Connor look him in the eye. “It’s not turning a switch, it’s putting an entirely new switch in.”

Connor blinked. He’d never thought of it that way.

“You have to rewire your brain. The brain is an electrical thing, you know,” Kevin said with a smile, tapping his head. “So you rewire, ask Heavenly Father for forgiveness for you past actions, and start anew.”

“I don’t… Does it really work like that?” Connor asked, leaning forward a little. He’d never admit it, but he really missed the _comfort_ of religion. Someone to blame, and thank, and ask for anything from.

“It’s not perfect, obviously. There’s no way to ‘undo’ what you’ve, ah, done. But there is a way to draw a line and say that was then,” Kevin motioned in the air with his hands, drawing a line and pointing behind it, “and this is now,” he gestured forward.

Connor looked intensely at his eggs as he poked them with a fork. If he could come back to God, maybe his family would want him again. Maybe he could go _home…_

“How?” Connor said, looking up and staring intensely into Kevin’s eyes. Kevin smiled.

“Let me show you.”


	3. Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Savior & (Spooky Mormon Hell) Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yO tw for gay conversation/shock therapy and some,,, implied rape/non-con (added to the tags + bonus points if someone catches the Reference in the tags)

Kevin Price always had something of a savior complex. Sure, he’d never admit to it, but it was certainly prominent all throughout his life. His ‘best friend’, Arnold Cunningham, was a less than stellar Mormon, and Kevin took it upon himself to befriend him just to help him learn better.

It never reared so strong as it did when he was assigned his mission- _New York City_. A place basically full to the brim with sin. And he was never one to back down from a challenge.

So when he approached the group of… people of the night, so to speak, he was ready for resistance. What he didn’t anticipate was the small, fiery redhead to pose such a clear challenge to Kevin; _“I’m not worth saving.”_ It was such a perfect opportunity for Kevin to prove that he could do something truly incredible. That he himself _was_ something incredible.

He knew it was a little… well, inappropriate to proposition the man, but he had to in order to _save_ him.

He didn’t expect the push back he got from Kayden. And really, he didn’t _understand_ why Kayden wouldn’t appreciate what he was doing- or trying to do- for him. Kevin was a good guy, he was helping this man.

So he went pulled out all the tricks, offered a nice bed, a shower, food. But then came tumbling out Kayden’s confession and, _no_ , Kevin Price was not so naïve and sheltered that he did not know what Kayden was doing on the street corner, but that didn’t define his sexuality. Kevin didn’t know what desperate situations led people to do what Kayden did for a living, but he imagined the individual’s actual sexuality played little role in the process.

But Kevin knew as well as anyone that wayward sexuality could be corrected. He was a product of the correction himself. He considered it an honor bestowed by Heavenly Father to give him the opportunity to pass on the correction to another lost soul.

Kayden seemed so willing, too, it just had to be Heavenly Father’s gift to Kevin, the vessel through which he could truly show his devotion and strength.

“Sit across from me,” Kevin instructed, gesturing to the chair. He’d moved his small kitchen table out of the way so there was nothing but open air between them as Kayden sat down. “Give me your hands,” he gestured and watched as Kayden hesitantly reaches out and put his hands in Kevin’s. “Perfect. Now, repeat after me…”

* * *

Kevin smiled as he started up making dinner. They’d spent the whole day rehearsing tips and tricks to fix Kayden’s problem. He gave Kayden special phrases to repeat- “I am stronger than this sin” and “I won’t give into the devil” and other such things- and also told him ways to punish himself when he had tempting thoughts. Pinching one’s arm, digging nails into one’s thighs.

A good balance between power and pain. Make yourself stronger than sin while also hurting for it.

Kevin could still remember the sting, making him twitch. He wasn’t good at self punishment, he always needed _more_. Worse. But it paid off in the end because now he was cured. He was. And he wasn’t losing the opportunity to help Kayden reach the same goal. He knew it was possible. It was.

But that night, he dreamt of it again. He hadn’t dreamt of it in so long, he wasn’t sure when they stopped coming, but suddenly he was there.

Strapped down to a chair, crying and begging for it to stop, _please, please, I’ll be good. I’m good. I’m not having those thoughts, please-_ and being cut off by a horrible jolt.

He could still hear that honeyed voice, telling him to relax, _God doesn’t like liars,_. A hand where it shouldn’t be, coaxing him to give in to something just to punish him for doing it. It burned. It all burned. If he wasn’t so convinced of his corporeal status, he would’ve called it Hellfire. If he didn’t know there was much worse waiting for him if he couldn’t make it through this.

He panted, the tears mixing with his sweat as he desperately nodded, tried to convince them that he was good, _good, good, I’m not- it’s-_ and another shot. And more touching, more whispering of prayers. Words that didn’t feel right in this context, praise to God in a sweet tone.

He didn’t register passing out in the chair, but suddenly he was awake and in his bed. He was coated head-to-toe in a cold sweat. He wiped his forehead and looked at his hands. They were shaking. This was Heavenly Father’s test, he was sure. He was reminding him of the horrible things he had to endure just to get better. And a reminder so he knew how to help Kayden.

He could do this. He slowly peeled himself from his bed, padding off to his shower to cleanse the sweat and sin that felt like it was just sitting on top of his skin and slowly seeping it’s way in.

After cleaning up, he picked up his phone. “Arnold? Hey, I need you to come over,” he said, receiving an affirmative answer. He sighed in relief. Arnold was much better at knowing what people wanted to hear to help them. Kevin could wax poetic about Jesus and Joseph Smith, but it meant nothing to someone who used to _be_ a Mormon and left it.

He needed back up. Not because the thought of being the one behind the button and cold whispers and conviction made him feel physically ill. That wasn’t the problem. Because he knew it was helpful, he wanted to help. The job was still mostly his to do, he just needed Arnold to give him a few new lines, new ways to phrase was he was trying to teach so maybe it wouldn’t feel so dang _familiar-_

No. That wasn’t the problem. _Really._

And maybe if he told himself that enough times, it might become true. It might not stop haunting him every time he told Kayden what to say or do. He was saving this guy.

He could do this.


	4. Backup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Making Things Up Again) Arnold & The Treatment Or The Cure

“So!” Arnold announced as he walked in, making Connor, sat on Kevin’s couch, jump. Kevin chuckled a little. “Whatcha need me for, buddy?” He slapped Kevin on the back, making him jump a bit.

“Ah, Arnold, this is Kayden,” he gestured. Connor looked Arnold over judgingly. “Kayden, this is Arnold Cunningham.”

“Hi, Kayden,” Arnold waved, though Connor was right there and secretly thinking about how much of an idiot Arnold looked like. Arnold just kept smiling as he plopped down in the chair next to the couch.

“Uh, Arnold,” Kevin cut in before Arnold could say anything else. “Kayden here,” he gestured. Connor felt like a display item in an auction and Kevin was his own personal Vienna White. “Used to be a Mormon, and is interested in becoming one again.”

“That’s great!” Arnold grinned widely. “Wait, what do you need me for? You know how to baptize, you probably know the scripture a thousand times better than me- though a thousand times zero is still zero, but-”

“Arnold,” Kevin cut him off sharply. “Kayden was… removed. Forcibly. By his family,” he moved his hands in a slow circle. Connor got the feeling Arnold wasn’t the brightest.

“Oh…” Arnold frowned. “ _Oh,_ um,” he nodded a little as he started to process this. “Right. Right right, um. Wh...y?” He asked slowly, hesitant to ask.

Kevin looked to Connor. He tried to remember the phrases Kevin had told him yesterday. “I’ve been led astray. Ah,” He furrowed his brows, looking at Kevin desperately for some fill-in.

“He’s found himself feeling less than… heterosexual things,” Kevin said, nodding a little condescendingly. Connor bit his lip.

“Oh,” Arnold mumbled. “Kev, can we talk? Uh… aloooone?” He asked, less than conspicuously. Kevin nodded.

Connor watched as they both disappeared into Kevin’s room. He couldn’t hear a single thing they said, but he could definitely hear talking.

It took a little while before the two emerged, neither looking very happy.

“It was wonderful to meet you, Kayden. But I’ve gotta go. Ya know, my, uh, my wife is very pregnant,” Arnold nodded nervously before skittering out the door.

“He’s not even married,” Kevin mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What?”

“He does that,” Kevin tried to explain, waving his hand. “Just… makes things up.”

Connor made a face. “Why?”

“Whenever he feels under pressure, he just does it,” Kevin shrugged.

“Huh. What, uh, what was that about?” Connor asked, gesturing to the door where Arnold had just left. He thought Arnold was coming to help.

“Arnold and I… don’t entirely see eye to eye on some of this stuff,” Kevin wrung his hand nervously. Connor narrowed his eyes, trying to read what Kevin was thinking, but he was strangely impassable.

In a profession like Connor’s, reading people was a necessary skill. He was usually really good as spotting the dangerous ones.

“What do you mean?” Connor pressed, getting up and standing eye to eye with Kevin.

“Story for another time,” Kevin waved a hand dismissively. Connor wanted to smack it.

“So why did you think he would help?” Connor stepped closer. 

“Normally, he… he is very good at saying what people need to hear,” Kevin explained, looking conflicted. Connor looked at him intently, wondering if what Arnold had said- what Kevin needed to hear- was not satisfactory to him.

“Well,” Connor dared to move closer. “What did he say to you that you apparently needed to hear?”

Kevin looked up, staring at Connor. “Nothing,” he said and Connor _knew_ he was lying. He grit his teeth a little.

“Bullshit,” he spat. “If this is apparently for my benefit,” he said, stepping forward almost threateningly, “I deserve to know.”

He wanted to be given the key to home again. Kevin was supposed to help him achieve that again.

“He doesn’t approve of this sort of therapy!” Kevin snapped. “He went on about,” he paused, gesturing his hand in a circle- a habit, Connor noted- and then sighed. “I’ve been through a more… extreme version of this. Which won’t be necessary for you, I’m sure of it. But he…” he shrugged a little. “He remembered how it affected me. It has… it had side effects. All medicine does, but the treatment is worth the cure,” he rambled. Connor’s head was reeling.

He was torn between begging Kevin to just do it, to do whatever it was that would cure him and let him go home and be with his family and, strangely, leaning forward and kissing him.

He didn’t do either, though. He just stood in his shock, looking at Kevin who seemed to be coming down from some sort of manic episode.

“I- How old are you?” Kevin suddenly looked up, making eye contact with Connor. Connor was tempted to lie, but he felt like Kevin’s gaze might see right through him.

“Twenty-three,” he answered honestly. It seemed surreal to think- he’d been on the streets since he was nineteen, and actually scraping by in a shared living space with a group of fellow prostitutes since he was twenty. Three years. He’d been doing that for three years.

Kevin nodded. “Perfect. I’m twenty-one, let’s go get a drink,” he said, taking Connor’s hand in a sudden motion, pulling him to the door and out of the apartment complex. Connor followed, though he was confused.

Kevin hailed a cab and recited an address to the driver.

“Manhattan?” Connor turned to Kevin, almost appalled by the idea.

“Why not?” Kevin replied, sitting back and getting adjusted. It was a decent ways away from Kevin’s apartment in the Bronx, but Connor was no stranger to long, silent cab rides.

Manhattan was one of the few places Connor didn’t frequently visit. Mostly because it was crazy expensive everywhere you went, and most of his customers didn’t want to spend so much money on a cab ride and a hotel. But he’d had a few outliers who _lived_ in Manhattan and took him there. For the most part, though, he stayed settled in the Bronx. So Manhattan was… a lot.

Kevin didn’t seem at all bothered, paying the taxi and getting out. Connor wondered what had gotten into him during the disagreement with Arnold, but followed him nonetheless.

This man was either his key to salvation, or his Virgil guiding him down to the pits of Hell. Either way, Connor felt compelled to follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi
> 
> I had to read Dante’s Inferno as summer work for AP English so fuck it might as well make some stupid fuckin allusions to it
> 
> If you don’t know what it is- Dante’s Inferno is an epic about a man named Dante who, for?? whatever reason??? has to traverse every level of hell, and he is guided by the spirit of a dead poet named Virgil. Virgil is honestly savage and constantly tells Dante to stop being a pussy, basically.
> 
> if ur curious, here are [some of my notes](https://imgur.com/a/72NeBSR) that yes, I did turn in to a teacher


	5. Manhattan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baroom Philosphy

The bar Kevin had in mind was a typical Manhattan bar. There was music, but it was sophisticated. There wasn’t any dancing- not a club, Connor noted with some disappointment. Clubs were some of the best atmosphere for his job. But he had to leave that behind now, didn’t he? That wouldn’t get him back home…

Kevin walked them up to the bartop, sitting down. Connor followed suit. The tender came around, checked their IDs- Connor had had a fake one since he was twenty, but once he turned twenty-one he traded for the real thing- and took their orders.

“Henessy,” Kevin said firmly, making Connor turn to look at him in slight shock.

“Uh, raspberry cosmopolitan,” Connor said, smiling flirtily at the bartender. She seemed unaffected, though, and went ahead shaking up the drinks. Connor turned to Kevin. “Are you alright?” He asked, furrowing his brows. “As far as I remember, Mormons aren’t big on drinking- or, well, indulgence in general, but-”

“For once, I wanna indulge,” Kevin cut him off. Connor frowned, trying to figure out what Arnold had said that really set Kevin off on this.

Their drinks came. Kevin told the tender to open a tab for him before beginning to down their alcohol. Connor had to break himself out of the habit of daintily sipping on his drink and messing with the stirring straw every now and then. He wasn’t trying to catch any customers here. And even if he was, no one here seemed to be the type who’d bite.

“What’s gotten into you?” He mumbled, not sure where the ideal house-husband Mormon man who’d picked a prostitute off the streets went.

“Hm?” Kevin looked up, the henny obviously doing its job already.

“Nothing,” Connor said as he waved down the bartender again and ordered something stronger. He had to catch up.

“Arnold’s an ass,” Kevin grumbled suddenly. “He had no idea about anything,” he took a quick swig, slamming the glass down and ordering more.

“I thought you said he was good at…” Connor trailed off, his slightly foggy mind not able to come up with the exact phrasing.

“Except for with me,” Kevin said firmly. “He’s always been an ass for me. Everyone else? Ooh, wisdom and strength and the right thing. But me? Nope.”

“How?” Connor asked, furrowing his brows and looking at Kevin.

Kevin sighed, long and drawn out. “He’s always told me I need to just…” he waved his hands in a circle, messier than he normally did, “‘accept myself,’” he said with air quotes. “I say he’s full of shit.”

“Maybe,” Connor mumbled, looking down into his now almost empty glass of whiskey. The alcohol was mixing up his thoughts, twisting up the idea of going home and the idea of saying _fuck it_ , he was doing just fine on the streets.

He was starting to wonder if home was even worth it. He’d only spent three days with Kevin, but they were truly a whirlwind.

“He’s hardly a Mormon,” Kevin spat. “He doesn’t follow half the rules.”

“Why are there so many rules anyway?” Connor interjected.

“Now you sound like…” Kevin trailed off, then laughed bitterly. “You sound like me when I was seventeen, eighteen.”

“I’m older than you.”

“That’s why I laughed,” Kevin shook his head. “Somehow you’re still less mature.”

“My name’s not even Kayden,” Connor suddenly sputtered, lips loose, sinking the ship of his salvation.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Connor,” he mumbled, putting his head down on the bartop.

“Nice to meet ya, Connor,” Kevin said, strangely unbothered by this discretion.

“Don’t you care?” Connor looked up. “That I lied?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Kevin said, ordering another drink. Connor decided to stop before he accidentally dropped his life story. He tended to ramble when he was drunk. Kevin seemed to be a philosophical drunk. “I don’t know what even matters anymore.”

Definitely a philosophical drunk.

“Love,” Connor declared. “Or some bullshit like that.” Kevin snorted, nodding a little.

“Probably. I don’t know if I deserve it anymore,” Kevin said, looking off into the distance as if the rows of mixers and wine bottles had the answers.

“A very wise man once told me everyone’s worth saving,” Connor replied with a slight smile. Kevin turned to him, smiling as if Connor had all the answers.

“I like you, Connor,” Kevin replied. “I like the way you think.”

Connor pretended his heart didn’t jump at the words.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kevin said, dreamily staring at him. “I like that you put up a fight. I like your spirit. I like that you know how to use my own stupid words against me.”

“They weren’t stupid,” Connor frowned.

“They were. Connor, do you believe in God? Heavenly Father, whatever you wanna call him.”

Connor was caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“Do you believe-”

“No, no, I heard you. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t,” Kevin said flatly.

“ _What-_ ”

“If he exists, he’s dealt me a shitty hand, ya know? I wanted…” Kevin made wide gestures with his hands. “I wanted the world,” he said softly. “God gave me a pebble.”

Connor snorted. “Gave me a single grain of sand.”

“We make quite the pair, huh? Two losers with nothing but dirt to their names,” Kevin shook his head.

“What about your family?” Connor asked.

“They hate me. They haven’t totally disowned me,” Kevin relented, “but they’re ashamed of me still.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Kevin sighed. “I’m really drunk,” he blurted.

“I noticed. Should we, uh. Get going?” Connor asked, not wanting to say ‘go home’ because Kevin’s apartment wasn’t his home.

“Not yet,” Kevin said, scooting a bit closer to Connor. “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered.

“It’s not like I have anywhere else to go,” Connor laughed.

“You seemed so determined when I first brought you over,” Kevin sighed. “You wanted to go. I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t- you’re drunk,” Connor shook his head, looking away. Kevin just moved closer, frustratingly enough.

“Yeah. I am,” he didn’t fight it, slinging his arms around Connor’s neck. Connor could smell the alcohol. It wasn’t unfamiliar.

“C’mon,” Connor sighed, slipping off his barstool and pulling Kevin down with him. “I’ll get us a cab.”


	6. Mixed Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stay & Hangover & Thinking It Over Anyway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s/o to my friend nippy and her cousin who are reading this
> 
> sup fuckers

Lugging home a six-foot-two intoxicated Mormon was not as easy as Connor had might’ve initially thought. He didn’t think Kevin would just decided to become dead weight when they got out of he cab.

“C’mon,” he encouraged. “Let’s take the elevator,” he sighed tiredly as he pressed the button for the elevator. Kevin just tried to get closer to him, but Connor kept pushing him away.

When he finally, _finally_ got them back to Kevin’s apartment, he all but tossed Kevin into his bed before turning to leave for the couch.

“Stay,” Kevin said suddenly, grabbing Connor’s sleeve.

“What?”

“Stay,” Kevin repeated, whining now. “I don’t wanna sleep alone. I have nightmares,” he said, reminiscent of a small child.

“Kevin, I’m not your mother,” Connor huffed, trying to gently pull his sleeve free of Kevin’s grasp, but it just got tighter.

“Please. Connor,” Kevin whined again, looking at him with such desperate, but hopeful, eyes.

“We’re not even friends!” Connor snapped. The effects of the words were visible, Kevin’s slight hopefulness died in his eyes, he dropped Connor’s sleeve, and he shrunk back into himself. “You’re just drunk,” Connor sighed, trying to speak more gently.

Kevin just nodded mutely. Connor wasn’t sure who he was hurting more as he walked away.

That morning was unlike any other Connor had spent in Kevin’s company. There was no breakfast being made when he woke, in fact Kevin was nowhere to be seen. He got up and looked around before poking his head into Kevin’s room.

Kevin groaned.

“Need an aspirin?”

Kevin groaned again, but this time in a slightly affirmative way. Connor nodded and dipped out.

He poked around Kevin’s kitchen and bathroom before finding the aspirin. He took out two tablets and got a cup of water, walking cautiously back into Kevin’s room.

“Here,” he said softly, setting everything down on the bedside table. Kevin pushed himself up- he was laying on his stomach- and took the pills and water.

“Thank you,” he croaked.

“Of course,” Connor whispered.

“I thought you said we weren’t friends,” Kevin mumbled, a hint of joking mixed with real sadness.

“I- I didn’t think you’d remember that,” Connor admitted. “You were really drunk.”

“I know. I’m sorry for anything I said,” Kevin sighed. Connor remember Kevin telling him he liked him and how he thought, and how happy it had made him feel to hear that, before dashing it away.

“It’s alright.”

“Are we really not friends?”

Connor laughed. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. Kevin nodded.

“Yeah. That makes sense,” he shrugged. “Sorry if I did anything stupid.”

“You said you didn’t believe in God.”

Kevin sat up in pure shock, holding his head at the sudden movement. “What?”

“You, uh. You asked me if I believed in God, and when I asked why you were asking you… said that you didn’t,” Connor explained. Kevin pinched his nose.

“Remind me to never drink again. I say the stupidest crap when I’m drunk,” he shook his head. Connor smiled uneasily.

“Will do. Do you need anything else?” Connor asked.

“No, but thanks for the aspirin,” Kevin sighed.

“Anytime,” Connor quipped before dipping out of Kevin’s bedroom, trying to make sense of the mixed messages he’d received in the last twenty four hours.

Firstly, Kevin’s suggestion that his friend would have good advice, but then his vehement denial of said advice once it was given. Connor wondered if the advice really was bad or if Kevin just didn’t like it. Next, being told to stay more than once by a drunken Kevin. And now in the morning being told nothing he said mattered or meant anything when he was drunk. It was an interesting comparison between drunk, philosophical Kevin, and sober, strict-thinking Kevin. Connor couldn’t figure out if one or the other was the ‘real Kevin’ or if somewhere in between the two was the ‘real Kevin.’

It didn’t matter, though. He’d made the decision while carrying Kevin home that his stay here was temporary. Whether Kevin was able to help him and earn his spot in his home again or if he simply returned to the streets, he wasn’t staying for more than a week or two.

Partially because he didn’t want to be a drain on Kevin’s life. Kevin was younger than him and probably not as established in the world- though, what Connor did for a living could hardly be called ‘established’- and who knew how much it cost him to feed and house two people instead of one. But mostly because he was getting strangely attached to the house-husband he’d suddenly gained. Maybe something about his drunk philosophy endeared him in Connor’s eyes, he wasn’t really sure, but for some reason he just knew that the longer he stayed, the harder it would be to leave.

And in the end, he wanted to leave. He was sure of it. He’d never intended to get landlocked here anyway. This was supposed to be a client trip and he was supposed to be back on his way to his street corner before the morning with money in his pocket. It was a fluke that he was even here.

But, while he was here, he might as well take advantage. He walked into the kitchenette and started to make some breakfast. He knew it wouldn’t be as picture perfect as Kevin’s cooking, but he used to help his mother all the time in making the family meals. He had three younger sisters who could eat enough for a few sumo wrestlers, so meals were a rather wild affair. It was almost surreal to move around the small kitchen without his sisters at his ankles asking him when it would be ready, or his mom telling him where to put a certain ingredient.

He tried not to think too much about it because now his ticket home didn’t seem so certain anymore and he didn’t want to start missing it now. He’d swear up and down that he didn’t miss it and he didn’t want to think about it because it might make him start to miss it.

(He’d be lying, though. He missed home without ever thinking about it. He missed it like a dull ache in his chest that never went away.)


	7. Philosophical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hangover & Over-Analyzed & Heaven Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> over half of this was written from about 2:30 am to 2:50 am
> 
> I’m sure it shows but there’s no way in hell im proofreading that shit

Kevin had one of the worst hangovers of his life. He didn’t drink often, considering he turned twenty one only about six months ago, but this was the worst. He should’ve known what he was doing when he was drinking so much last night, but once he started the buzz just didn’t feel like enough.

Arnold had reminded him of the terrible shape he came out of his therapy in. He had fitful nightmares every night and anytime he slept. Arnold would have to wake him up and bring him water and tissues. He knew Arnold had a point in telling him he shouldn’t help Connor.

Connor. God, he was an entirely different story. It hadn’t surprised Kevin to learn he’d initially given Kevin a fake name. Thinking about it now, Kevin probably should’ve given a fake one too. It wasn’t really safe to give his full name to a prostitute, but then again he invited that prostitute into his home.

What had surprised Kevin was how much he enjoyed having Connor around. Kevin’s life was pretty lonely, if he was being honest. His family hardly talked to him, save for his younger brother, Jack, who had no concept of why Kevin was a black sheep. He didn’t really have any romantic inclinations, though he didn’t want to admit _why_ that was.

But having someone in his apartment, to eat the food he made (Kevin prided himself greatly in his cooking ability) and to talk to him. And even to carry him home when he was too drunk to really think or even begin to use his legs properly.

Of all the things he’d said while drunk, he knew for sure that he meant it when he said he didn’t want Connor to leave. He didn’t know why it had upset him so much that first day when Connor had seemed insistent on leaving, but it probably had something to do with the idea that he could save Connor. Now he knew he was enjoying Connor’s company.

Which was scary. And dangerous. Kevin almost wanted to kick Connor out to avoid getting attached, but it might be too late already.

He almost wanted to kiss him when Connor offered aspirin and then brought it to him without any complaints. He didn’t, obviously, for two reasons. One; it would’ve caused the vibrating pain in his head to set off again, and two; it would be a horrible transgression of all the progress he’d made.

He tried to just go back to sleep after the brief conversation with Connor, trying not to think too hard about Connor saying he didn’t know if they were friends or not. How could they not be? Did Connor not enjoy his company as much as he enjoyed Connor’s? He couldn’t tell. He had no idea, Connor was so different from anyone Kevin had ever met. Connor was so much more complicated, Kevin didn’t know how to even begin knocking down the walls to find the real Connor in there somewhere.

Or maybe even Connor didn’t know who the real Connor was anymore. Kevin had no idea what Connor’s former profession could do to someone’s self esteem and understanding. It was possible Connor stepped away unscathed, it was just a job. But it could also be that Connor lost himself in it, and Kevin could tear down every wall and pass all of Connor’s defenses to find… nothing.

He realized he was very much awake and very much not sleeping, and very much thinking about something he didn’t want to think about. He had no good reason to be over-analyzing Connor like he was. Heck, it wasn’t even fair to Connor for him to try and understand him without really knowing him. He just hoped he wasn’t right about there being no real Connor, no core personality driving the man Kevin knew and… and liked.

Which rounded his thoughts back around to the same concept with a different focus. His feelings for Connor, and how far they truly ran. And, if it were to turn out that he was feeling more than he wanted to admit, how did he handle that?

Was it really so bad to want to be with a man?

Kevin closed his eyes as a shiver ran down his spine, almost feeling tears prick his eyes as it whispered _I’m good_ into his soul. He wasn’t good, not if he couldn’t resist simple temptation. What he felt for Connor was either purely platonic or simple infatuation. And both would pass given enough time.

He just needed some sleep. He was too hungover to be philosophizing. He remembered his drunken rambling to Connor that had been similar in its nature. Without the removal of his filter via alcohol, he usually managed to keep his overactive and running mind in his head and in his mouth only when he so choosed.

He rolled over, pulling his blankets tighter around him as if covering his ears could drown out the noise inside his head. At the very least, it would keep it from spilling out, keep his thoughts from being so loud that everyone could hear.

He eventually fell back asleep, blessedly until the next day. It was one of his most restful sleep in almost three years.

His dream was so _pleasant_ , he didn’t want to wake up ever. Normally, Kevin didn’t dream. It seemed odd to him to have such an active mind and see black every night as he slept, but that was his normal. He either didn’t dream, or he had nightmares.

But tonight was good. Tonight left him feeling warm, happy. It wasn’t until he finally woke up, with a feeling of cool disappointment settling in as he learned it wasn’t true, that he realized what he’d dreamed of that made him feel so high.

He’d dreamt of Connor. Of kissing him, holding his hand and laughing. Of just being an everyday couple with him. He could still remember the way he felt in his dream; safe, warm. Happy. But now he couldn’t connect to those feelings.

He just felt sickened.


	8. Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silence & City Streets & Going Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes took me a hot sec to write this whoOPS

Connor again woke up not to the smell of Kevin making breakfast, but the sound of Kevin stumbling out of his room. Connor laughed, taking in Kevin’s ruffled appearance.

“Is the hangover so bad it’s lasted another day?” He teased, sitting up on the couch.

“No,” Kevin said, though he sounded a bit dazed. “Just, uh… bad dream.”

Connor frowned a little, but didn’t press the issue anymore as Kevin was walking to the kitchen and starting on breakfast. He leaned back against the couch, watching Kevin carefully.

They ate breakfast in relative silence, which left Connor feeling a bit unsettled. Kevin was acting beyond strange, but he didn’t know how to approach it. Did he ask what was wrong? Would Kevin even tell him?

By lunch the silence was getting to him. He stood up, grabbing a few of his things and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Kevin asked. Connor tried to ignore the hint of fear in the question.

“Out. I’ll be back,” he promised before slipping out the door.

He stepped out onto the New York City sidewalk, immediately just walking with the natural flow of the people walking.

Some people would say they hate big cities because they’re so crowded. But Connor loved everything about it. He loved that he could just step outside and not be noticed, he made no big impact here. He didn’t want to.

Someone like Kevin might, he thought with a soft huff through his nose. Someone like Kevin would want to make sure New York City knew their name and knew it well.

Connor wanted no one to know him. He wanted to be a part of the crowd, bumping physical elbows instead of social ones. Instead of everyone knowing his personal life because, shit, there’s no better entertainment in a small town. No, here no one knew their neighbor. And while that might seem cold, it was the best social climate for Connor.

He wanted to fade into the background.

But then, he thought, he also wanted to go home. Even if the environment bred hatred and gossip, he wanted to go home.

He paused idly at a crosswalk as the cars went by, eventually jaywalking across when there weren’t any cars coming too close. He looked down, watching his feet as he walked.

He knew he didn’t have everything together to leave Kevin’s place yet, but the thought of just walking and never turning back was so tempting. He almost did- he’d made it before on the streets with less in his pocket- but after the sun started to set, he turned around to head back.

When he opened the door, all the lights in the apartment were off. Connor frowned, hesitantly turning one on as he walked into the eerily silent apartment.

“Kevin?”

There was shuffling, shifting, something falling, and then Kevin emerged from his bedroom.

“Connor?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes?” Connor furrowed his brows.

“Oh. I- sorry, I thought you’d left. Fuh- For good,” Kevin fumbled a little, blinking in shock.

Connor felt somewhat miffed by that. “I said I’d be back,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. He felt oddly peeved that Kevin had such little faith in him.

“And I should’ve believed that because…?”

Connor wanted to scream. Because Kevin had a good point. He wanted to scream because Kevin was right, they had no reason to trust each other and for some reason he _wanted_ Kevin to trust him, dammit.

“That’s fair,” was all he ended up saying, since really- what else could he say? It was a fair concern. Kevin just shrugged.

“Do you want the bed or the couch?” He asked.

Connor looked Kevin over, frowning a little. He looked… well, he couldn’t quite place it. Somewhere between wallowing and relieved, as if it hadn’t settled in that Connor was really back.

“I’m fine on the couch,” Connor replied, looking over at said couch. He hadn’t spent a single night in Kevin’s bed, despite him offering every night to take the couch so Connor could sleep comfortably. It just felt wrong. He was already taking so much from Kevin, though he didn’t know what Kevin’s motives were for being so generous he didn’t want to take too much. It felt like there had to be some limit to how much Kevin could give, and Connor didn’t want to find it.

“If- uh- if you want, we could share my bed? I mean, it’s big enough for two people…” Kevin offered, blatantly not making eye contact. “I know you don’t want to put me out of my bed, but we could share?”

Connor considered the offer for a moment. On one hand, it would be a much more comfortable place to sleep for the night, and if all went well he could stay there every night (until he left, of course). On the other, the potential for awkward mornings was beyond the risk factor he was usually willing to take.

But the reward outweighed the risk. Accidentally being a bit too touchy with Kevin didn’t invalidate the idea of a comfortable bed for the first time since bed been kicked out.

“Sure.”

It was a bit awkward at first, after they got changed in separate rooms and both ended up in Kevin’s room on either side of the bed. Kevin slowly got in, as if Connor was a jumpy animal he could scare off at any moment. Connor just tried to shrug off the awkward feeling- it was only awkward if he let it be, he decided as he boldly climbed into the bed and got under the blanket.

It took Kevin another moment before he laid down too, not getting under the blanket before turning to lay on his side facing away from Connor. Connor figured it was probably for the best.

He flipped onto his side- away from Kevin so they were back to back- and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep despite the slightly awkward air hanging over them.


End file.
